Wednesday, January 30, 2008

You Have Your "Let's Change the World Face On"

Princess has, yet again, bestowed another award upon my blog and me. We are not sure it is entirely deserved, but we thank her nonetheless.

Volcanoes await. Tsunami's brew. Earthquakes fester. Meteors may descend. In the midst of all things in this universe, these little blogs of ours can cause a smile, some sympathy, a chuckle or even a full hearted laugh. It's these the little things in life that matter most. I am thankful you share these bits of your lives in this blogosphere of ours.

My blog originally was started with my family from the great white north in mind. To keep them in the know while the husband and I live here in our Longhorn city. And, while I believe that they sometimes forget this little blog is for them, I have befriended a few others. So, I thank Princess and all my other readers of whom I read too for "making my day."

Mother Nature has not yet deemed me fit for destruction and I'm thankful for that too.

In the usual tradition of awards, I am suppose to pass this on to others. Since I read everyone in my blog roll on almost a daily basis (well, and the fact that Google Reader now helps me from seemingly being psychotic-stalkerella-like), I'm passing this all on to you. It is my blogs' and my hope you enjoy it!

P.S. But. . . you can only have it if you leave a comment. D'oh. Rules. Even if I make them up as I go along; you forget you're in Jen's World now. While in Jen's World you have to deal with rule implementations, addendum's and postscripts. So there.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

I Saaa-id, "No Boys in That House"

So, I'm back in my Longhorn City which means I have troppi to blog about from my visit in H-town. I have; however, too much to do*** before I can really attempt to write about the adventures with Mrs. & Mr. Brown Eyed Girl. Though, I can say fairly quickly, we Zinned, and it was worth every drop.

***One of those "much to do's" is a bit frightening. I opened my Google Reader to find I have 61 posts to catch up on from all ya'll. Um. . . . . . . . I was only gone 5 days.

I wonder if I have an addiction?

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Because I Said So

The husband had a day off today. Guess what I made him do on his one day off before I leave our Longhorn City?

Go to a movie. That's right. A movie. It had been so long since we've seen the inside of a movie theater, that I was like a school kid in a candy shop! So, what movie did we pick? The husbands vote: National Treasure: Book of Secrets. My vote: Cloverfield. Guess who won? That's right, me. Woot. Woot.

Off we went.

Where I made it through 40 minutes of the movie. The husband looked at me a few times, "baby, you don't look so good. Let's leave." And since I really, really wanted to see this movie, I refused to budge. Increasingly, I became clammy, sweaty and green-ish. At 40 minutes, or there about, I ran to the women's restroom. All of the stalls were full. I tasted vomit. I couldn't cool off. I wanted to lie down. A few women stared at me as if I were some kind of junkie, but no one asked if I was okay. What's wrong with society? I suppose, to their credit, I looked like a fashionably dressed junkie, but . . .

After 20 minutes being spent in a movie theaters bathroom, I returned to my seat still not quite right in the belly. The husband whispered, "honey, a movie is supposed to be fun and you look miserable; let's just go."

Putting my head down in disappointment, I finally nodded. Motion sickness is a bitch.

Whatever You're Mumbling

Last night I went to bed extremely early. Even by little kids standard it was early. I was tired. I had had an "one of those days" and I just wanted to curl up in bed. Where I could be alone and have solitude. So, with The Bourne Ultimatum in one hand and dressed in warm pajamas, I headed to bed at 7:40 PM. Yes, you read that correctly. 7:40 PM. Just one of the perks I have when the husbands' schedule is all over the place. . . .

Anyway, if you haven't seen the last of the Bourne movies thus far, you are missing out. It's an awesome movie! Completely fascinating to me. I am still trying to comprehend that governments actually have the power to do these things. I want to trust no one. I'm becoming very cynical in my crotchety old age. This is probably a good thing. So, completely engrossed in watching how intuitive Jason Bourne is . . . . the phone rang. It was 8:01 PM.

Pausing the movie, I climbed out of bed to the phone and clicked "talk" only to find the person who had called hung up. But it immediately rang again. Only once. It was the same person - the husband calling from work. I answered again to the caller hanging up. I waited for the phone to ring. It did not, but, to be safe, I delayed starting the movie up again for five minutes anyway. When the phone did not ring again, I finally pushed "play" to finish my fab movie.

The phone did not ring the rest of the night.

Not only did it not ring, because now I had the phone on my nightstand where I could answer it before it could even finish one full ring, the entire house remained quiet until the husband arrived home at 3:00 AM. The dogs went berserk. Which is how I knew the husband had arrived. This doesn't have much to do with this story though.

What does have something to do with this story is the fact that upon awaking this morning, the husband threw his arm around me. We had some playful conversation on how his night at work went & how I slept for 12 hours without any sort of sleep aid. I was exhausted - I think I may have mentioned this previously. When a thought struck me -

me: hon, how come you hung up when I answered?
the husband: cos you answered. ***funny, funny guy the husband is***
me: oh.
the husband: I'm kidding! ***laughing*** I hung up because the fax machine answered.
me: huh?
the husband: the fax answered whe. . .
me: um. . . . . Noooooo. I unplugged that thing weeks & weeks ago! Have you used it?
the husband: no.
me: so how . . . ***I AM blond, but***
the husband: I dunno? It just answered both times.
me: okay, that's just weird.

Obviously, with my curiosity perked, I got up to see if the fax machine was plugged in. It. Was. Not. It does not even have the power cord plugged in. Both of us are educated people. Both of us know how to use a fax machine. Both of us are completely dumbfounded.

We are in possession of Satan's fax machine, I think.

Anybody in the market for a used, slightly possessed fax machine? Anyone?

Monday, January 21, 2008

She's Not Doing It; Make Her Do It

There are a few of you out there cleaning, finding 1980 photos, writing about past loves and former lives. Every single one of them has inspired me today. So much so, that I've surpassed on starting my workout until the end of this post.

Today, I've cried. I've Googled. I've ranted. I've caught up. I also began from the beginning, under inspiration, going through my old archives on my oldest of old blogs. When I found one of my favorite entries from when we lived in an apartment waaaaa-ay south of our now Longhorn City. . . . . and, while 4 out of my 7 readers have already read this, I thought to myself, "meh. whatevs." because it so sums up my weekend of cleaning. I just had to repost it. Send hate mail later. I'll get to it after my workout.

Enjoy. I'll get back to original posting soon. Promise.


January 10, 2006

The Husband Shall Not Mess With the Laws-of-House-Keeping

I love my husband. I truly do. But let me just say that there are some issues that raise their ugly noggin’ now and again. Let me explain.

I believe that my messes always make sense. I don’t believe that my husband’s messes make any sense. Take, for example, tonight where the husband got a new toy. It came in a large cardboard box, which is fundamentally normal. In his excitement he proceeded to open the box in the kitchen on the stove while throwing the “paper stuffing” onto the kitchen floor. I know that some of you might think this is normal and some may not. This is; however, not the subject of concern for me. What, my friends, is the matter of question is the clean-up of thrown paper and now big empty box sitting on the stove.

So, I proceed in the most tactful, warm and adoring way that I know how, “Honey, that’s not a very good clean up.” Now, I need you to understand that the husband is a good man who holds one of the biggest hearts I know, but at this moment, I accepted that a demon possessed the love of my life. I was somehow precariously in imminent danger. Flashes of red flowed through his eyes while smoke emerged out of some facial orifices. To which he responded, “Baby. Don’t. Worry. I. Will. Clean. Up.”


Next thing I know, the big box has moved from the kitchen stove to the floor in our make-shift library, whilst the paper joined it in such a manner that it too ended up on the floor next to the box.

I bit my tongue. . .

. . . . but only for an hour. Some of you might think it a mistake to pursue the concentrated effort of normal clean up. Some of you may not. I took my chances and declared, “Honey, you said you’d clean up.” To which he answered, “I did. I put it there for the cats to play in.”

I'm sorry?

Saturday, January 19, 2008

It's Magic. And Like Science, You Don't Actually Have to Understand It, You Just Have to Believe It

Lots of weird stuff going on here this month of January as previous posts have told. In fact, one of the most peculiar items, aside from having body parts screamed at us while we are out enjoying the fresh cold air, is the fact that I've discovered that I like bourbon. Yes. I do.

What you need to understand is I have tried for years and years to enjoy scotch and/or whiskey, but I absolutely abhor both. They burn your nose hairs off & put hair on your chest. Both are pretty much manly man stuff - you know, like, being in the deep of the man cave, drinking beer, watching TV all while in their skivvies. Stuff I do not do. Nor do I care to do so. Most people probably shouldn't either. But this point is neither here nor there.

What I am trying to point out and say is, as we all know (I hope you know), I am not manly. Or I try my hardest not to be like a man though for some reason it seems to follow me. . . . ? I like to believe that I am a true girlie girl. I admire all things pink. I like having doors opened for me. I love my stilettos and being assessed by such. I enjoy being a slave to hair styles, fashion and makeup. Finally, as mentioned in a previous post, I love the girlie parts of me. So, it is safe to bet that I do not want chest hair. I know for a fact that scotch puts it there. For real. So, it is really, really strange that I've taken a liking to bourbon. Specifically, Makers Mark. I mean, really? Bourbon? Like a moth to a flame - I have to ask, "why?"

One more thing.
. . . because you asked so nicely & I'm not a schweaty beastly creature today . . .
picture of the new shades.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Needs An Emotional Enema

Most of my seven readers are very aware of the fact that weird stuff happens to me. Like, always. I'm not even going to try to pretend that far-out kooky randomness is not a daily occurrence, because I know it happens far more than it should.

So, I need someone to explain to me what this means. . . . . .

The husband and I were walking Lola and Dixie tonight. I know, I know - I have 4 dogs, but the other two are badly misbehaved on a walk & it stresses all of us out to try and create the dog zen on a walk. I've tried for years to no avail. So we just don't.

Anyway, we were on our return walk to our home. Deep in conversation about bike racing, work and family all the while saving humanity from their own stoopidness. We were on the walking trails. Cars passed us by. None of this being unorthodox in and of itself. No? No. What was aberrant was that it's chilly here and we were bundled up winter jackets, hats and gloves. We were, contrary to popular belief, enjoying being in the great suburban outdoors. Hardly anybody was crazy enough to be outside today. Just us. Minding our own beeswax . . .

When this one other freakish circumstance occurred. A car raced past us while its back seat passenger shrieked at full force top lungs as if he were Pavarotti at Madison Square Garden himself, but without the famed brilliance and beauty of his tone, through an open window at us, "PENIS IN THE EYE!"

For real.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

I Sense You Are Looking For Something

me: grrrrrrrwaaarrrrrmmmmmmblllllphlat.

What is that? What does that mean? Is that Jen without makeup? Or hair products? Or coffee? Zombies, possibly? Dead sea monkeys?


That's Jen p*ssed off at uninsured motorists. Did I say the parents were really concerned and willing to work with us? I take that back - tenfold.

That's all I really have to say right now about that.

A couple hours after cooling off. . .

Addendum: yeah. I know. I knew this would happen. I did. I was just thinking (hoping beyond all hopes & dreams) that maybe; just maybe someone in this world during the age we live in would not be a jackhole for once. How very wrong I am. Sooner or later I'm going to turn cynical. And evil.

Addendum to the Addendum: Here's what I know so far - our insurance company will cover the damages and a rental car.

We have to pay the deductible.

Since the parents of the twins that hit us do not plan on putting them on their own insurance within the 30-day time allotment, as mentioned previously, our company will cover it.
To use the the mothers' words, "They're on their own. I told them that if they bought this car it was up to them to take care of it. . . .blah, blah, blah"

What she doesn't seem to understand is that our insurance company will turn around and sue them. Though I'm not here to educate the masses, 'cos, you know, that's not my jobbie-job; it makes sense, at least to me, to put their children on their insurance to cover the damages therefore avoiding any law suit(s). Since these twins are students and thus considered dependents of their parental units. Put. The. Kids. On. Your. Insurance. I'm not going to sue you - my insurance company with a building full of one thousand-and-two lawyers will.

Make sense?

This Bull Even Has Muscles in His Ears

Can you guess what time of year it is here in our Longhorn City?

The Stock Show & Rodeo is in town!

With cowboy boots in tow, the husband and I kicked off to "Bulls Night Out" Tuesday night. Our friends had 2 extra tickets & since we had never been before, we thought, "why not?" It was an absolutely fantastic time! The bulls are magnificent and fierce, the riders young and tough, the announcers amusing and entertaining and, finally, thank the gods that be the rodeo clowns are not creepy.

There was always an intermission show between the sets of bull riding. During one, two gambling tables had been set up while the announcers started in about, "do you enjoy gambling?!" I thought, "great. Card gambling - how boring." My thoughts started to wander around in my endless abyss of a mind. But I proceeded to watch six men split up into three at each table. With a disinterested yawn, where I tossed around heading to the restroom . . . . . I watched a bull pen open and a giant bull charged out at full speed. Towards the tables. He hit the first one and smashed it to pieces; taking two gamblers and their chairs with him. The third remained in his seat. The bull turned around, charged and violently knocked him over and then proceeded to run this cowboy over two more times (he used his horns and feet. Yes, he was injured a bit, but these are real cowboys). Not quite finished, the bull took out the second table and all it's men sitting in their chairs with one charge. From what I came to understand, the last one sitting in their chair was to be the winner. Let me point out here, with this second table, when the bull came a charging - all the men jumped and ran to the fences. I would too. I don't have those kind of cajones. In fact, you would never get me to sit at one of those tables. Ever.

As violent as it sounds, it was awesomely fun! I think I'm twisted.

Not to worry though, I'm not completely sick in the head. The event featured new riders as well. Approximately seven children under the age of 8 rode sheep. This was conclusively hilarious and endearing all at the same time. The kids clung to these sheep for dear life as the sheep ran for dear life. Most of the children ended up hanging off the sides of sheep just trying to make it to the three-second bell. They all won trophies and a new pair cowboy boots from Justin Boots. This was captivating and charming. Our future bull riders at work.

Overall, the husband and I loved every single minute of Bulls Night Out. We cheered the riders, we cheered the bulls, we basically cheered anything that moved or made us laugh. It was a great time. We cannot wait to go back. And, if you have never been, I highly recommend you give it a go.

Ya'll come back now, ya hear?

Monday, January 14, 2008

Oh. I Love THAT Question. High Five.

me: so. . . .
the husband: ***eyebrows raised***
me: so, the po-po had a speed zone trap on my wa. . .
the husband: did YOU get pulled over?! ***callin' the kettle black***

Pffft. I never.

And, no. I did not get pulled over. If you would just let me finish telling the story. . . .

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Oh My God, You're Almost Cool

Dart - Brushed Bronze VR50 Brown Gradient Oakleys

It was requested by someone that I post my new shades the husband bought me on Saturday. I think I was supposed to be wearing them, but I have been working out for 2.5+ hours today, so you get no face time of moi. [If I happen to get presentable and happen to take a decent photo of me where I happen to be wearing the new sunglasses, I may decide or not decide to post thy picture. Maybe.]

I'm just sayin'.

Yet, another boring post.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Paint: You Have Made Me Your Sworn Enemy

me: honey . . . . . I need to blog, but I have nothing to blog about.
the husband: you don't?
me: no.

Even my conversations are boring today.

On a side note, I have had a few cute men in the house over the past two days. Bicycle racing men. Whom happen to be running around in Lycra. Let me point out, some very well muscled men in skin tight clothing. This includes the husband. They are using our CompuTrainer for performance testing. I'm very okay with this.

Things aren't all bad. Obviously.


In lieu of a blog bearing any sort of substance, you get before and after pictures of my home improvement projects. You have been patiently hearing about my mad painting skills for over a month now and you deserve some pictures. Hopefully, you won't want to bleach your eyeballs out.

Family Room Before:

Family Room After:

. . . just when you thought I was done painting . . . . . think again.

While my parents were here visiting they decided to take down the humongous light fixture in our backyard (we found a 175-watt bulb in it) that must have lit up the neighborhood block. The husband decided to tear out the 1980's brass and black glass fireplace. Men are good at demolition.

Due to the deconstruction, I need some more terracotta paint and all will be as good as new.

That's as boring as I get today. I hope to have new material later this weekend.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

I've Got To Get Back To Work & You've Got To Lay Off The Coffee

Due to recent circumstances, I have decided that I need to expand my 2008 Resolutions List (well that, and the fact that I forgot to record a few the other day whilst listing):

  1. eat less salt.
  2. give up the scale.
  3. wear a hat outside while sipping venti chai tea latte's.
  4. avoid flying car roofs on the freeway.
  5. be mentally okay with growing ever so gently closer to 40.
  6. stay in better touch with friends.

Please let me know if I've missed anything.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Hey! Let's Tally That Up Shall We?

I'm a bit down today. I had to drop off my parental units at the airport this afternoon. They were headed back to the great white north. I already miss them immensely. They're good people - great parents! A ton of fun . . . . And . . . . . . I just miss them. I really do. It's been hard not to cry. It's hard to live hundred's of miles away.

So, the husband decided we were going to have a fantastic day. He knows just how hard "goodbyes" are for me. He wanted to keep me busy and my mind off missing my parental units. . . .He decided to drive west of our Longhorn City to see some vacation property we had been tossing between our 2 brains. . . .

Which meant we were driving down a freeway - highway - call it what you will; it's all the same. We were completely minding our own business. Enjoying the scenery and conversation - keeping both our sadness's at bay.

When, in mid-conversation, we observed a Cordova-like roof come off the Cadillac traveling in front of us. It soared through the air. So free. Lightly. As if meant to fly. Leaving behind it's very own secure home as if it got its kicks from freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

only to have it hit us on our windshield, roof and roof fin-thingy thing. At 80+ miles an hour.

For real.

Something is missing here.

All I can bear to show you of poor Coco Chanel

(For those of you who know, yep. It was Coco Chanel. Our 550i. Now, I'm really sad.)

addendum: Princess just made me realize that I should let you all know that everyone is okay. It's only the cars that were damaged. I feel more badly for them than for us. We have insurance. They just purchased their vehicle (2 twins on their way back to college) and they did not have insurance. It'll be worked out one way or another. No one was hurt and that is what matters. I'm thankful we weren't in the truck (or that a motorcyclist wasn't behind them) . . . . ***shudder***

'Cos That's How This Lady Rolls

My parental units flew down from the frozen tundra in the great white north this past Friday morning. We have had an absolute wonderful weekend. I did not paint my house. Not an inch of it. But it will begin soon. I promise. My parents did happen to help with a few chores that needed fixin' though.

It wasn't all odd jobs; however. Saturday was an amazingly b-e-a-uuuutiful day! It was in the mid 70's. The sun was shinning. We we out running errands for the home and it's people. The husband and I just bought a new wrought iron throw rack and fireplace screen. Also a new blouse for Saturdays evening out at Lonesome Dove (warning: music) and Craig Ferguson was purchased. It was a fantastic day!

With a Venti non-fat chai tea latte in hand, happy conversation, shopping bags, my parents in awe of sitting outside drinking espresso's & tea in the warm breeze while watching the cars & Longhorn City people stroll by at the beginning of January. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a bird shit on my head.

For real.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot, and Never Brought To Mind

I have just finished painting for 6 hours today. I estimate that I have about 3 more hours until I'm finished with this room. I have had the TV on for most of the day today; only because I started out watching the second-half of the The Tournament of Roses Parade. Once that was done, a very strange game show came on. I tried to tolerate it - I was only painting, but I. Couldn't. Stand. It. I can't even remember its name. . . It was dreadful. More than awful. And plain stoopid.

Anyhow, eventually the TV landed on The History International Channel where "The Worst Jobs in History" by Tony Robinson had some sort of marathon viewing. It is awesome. And, he's not kidding. These are the worst jobs in history. Mostly disgusting too. Really. Just imagine what this is, a Royal Stool Groomer. Which has absolutely nothing to do with horses. I'll leave you to your imagination, but if you really need to know, ask & I shall tell. It's also how we came to be naming "poo" as "stool".

This really isn't the point of my post. I used to be blond. Naturally blond. Though I no longer am. Which, again, has nothing to do with this post. What I am trying to get at is that 6 hours of painting leaves one loads of time to think. And, think I did. About how much I want to be finished with this painting in this room. And no longer sick. But I'm not and I am, so . . . .

No. Really. I was actually thinking about resolutions. And here's what I want in my life for this new shiny year:
  1. laugh more.
  2. find my future.
  3. become a bicyclist. . . . . . and like it.
  4. finish repainting, refurnishing and some renovating of the home.
  5. sort out the gardens.
Some will be easy. Some will be hard. All good goals nonetheless.

For ETK, as you can see, we only consumed 2 of the 4 bottles of champagne. But we drank for 7 hours, so we didn't get tipsy or hungover. For Alli, no axes in the back of thy head, fo shizzle! Thank the Gods that be! We were on the brink of peril when I was cooking chili though, as neither of us had eaten and both of us had just finished working out. No good can come from consuming 3/4 of a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach. To keep from falling into the alcohol trap we put up the rest of the champagne on hold until after dinner (1.25 bottles of bubbly). Close call . . .

The husband and I watched "Eastern Promises" and part of "Mr. Brooks." Both are good films in their own right. I thoroughly enjoyed each, even though we have yet to finish "Mr. Brooks." I made it to 12:30 AM while watching, but felt my eyes grow very, very heavy. Next thing I knew is that I had slept through 20 minutes of the movie. Time to call it quits.

One last mention of ringing in 2008, I did wake the husband at 12 and whisper, "happy new year, baby! I love you!" which was followed by a very sexy kiss from him. Not a bad start to the year. . . .

I truly hope that this year is much better than 2007, while it started out horrendously, it did get better. Much better. But the entire year was just a weary challenge, especially due to its start. Something I'm still trying to let go of. 2007 I am not sad to see you go. It was none to soon. So be off & make way for the new and hopefully severely improved 2008.

Slainte Mhath to you and yours!